


Fevered Confessions

by amandateaches



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Reader-Insert, Sick Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 17:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17985170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandateaches/pseuds/amandateaches
Summary: When Dean gets a fever, you get a little more than you bargained for.





	Fevered Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> I took my inspiration from @supernatural-jackles’s Weekly Writing Challenge, Week 8. The prompt was “How dare you.”

Your homemade chicken noodle soup hadn’t even started boiling yet when Dean burst into the kitchen, staggering around and knocking over everything in his path. You turned around with a laugh that quickly turned into a groan as you watched him shuffle over to the coffee maker and clumsily smack his head on a hanging pot he’d somehow managed to veer right into.

“Son of a bitch…” he groaned, his voice already hoarse and croaky.

“Dammit, Dean,” you scolded, rolling your eyes at his stubbornness. “I thought I told you to stay in bed. You’re too sick to be walking around.”

He spun around, his eyes taking a second to focus on you, before his face dropped in exaggerated offense. “First of all, how dare you? I’m Dean Winchester, I don’t get sss…ick…” He paused for a second, gulping queasily before his voice dropped to a weak whisper. “Hold on…when did the room start spinning?”

“Okay, that’s it, cowboy,” you said quickly, hurrying over to catch him before he fainted back into his fever-induced stupor. “Time to get back to bed.”

He looked down at you, staring for a good ten seconds before he finally noticed your arms wrapped around his chest. “Well, hey there…” he drawled, his voice definitely aiming for flirtatious but mostly just coming out wobbly. You laughed and shook your head, steering him back towards the door.

“Come on, casanova,” you coaxed, gently guiding him through the doorway and down the hallway back towards his room. “You get back in bed and I’ll bring you your soup, okay?”

“Okay…” he muttered slowly, finally complying and letting you lead him back to his bed, where you tucked him in before making your way back to the kitchen, where you finished cooking his soup and poured it into a bowl. By the time you made it back to Dean’s room, he was sound asleep, snoring loudly, and you chuckled softly as you put the soup down on his end table and sat on the edge of his bed.

“Oh, Dean,” you whispered softly, running your hand across his fevered forehead and down his clammy cheek, pausing to admire the way his chest was rising and falling, his breathing coming out slow and steady. “How is it that even with an 102 degree fever you somehow manage to find a way to be drop-dead gorgeous?”

Exhaling heavily, you shook your head. “Oh, that’s good, Y/N, just stare at him like a total stalker when you’re supposed to be taking care of him. That’s not creepy at all…”

You stood up, cursing yourself for being such an idiot, but, just before you could walk out the door, you heard a muffled grunt from behind you. “For the record, I think you’re pretty damn gorgeous too.”

You spun around to find Dean lying with his eyes closed, but the smile on his face made it clear that he definitely wasn’t sleeping. “That’s just the fever talking,” you insisted, trying your best to keep the rising blush from your cheeks as embarrassment flooded through you.

He opened his eyes and turned his head towards you. Even through the sick haze that clouded his eyes, you could see his sincerity. “Unless I’ve had a fever every day since the day I met you, it’s definitely not just the fever, Y/N. I’m just sorry I didn’t have the guts to tell you sooner.”

Your blush instantly turned into an idiotic grin as the weight of what he was saying actually sinked in. “Really?”

He nodded, stopping again as another wave of dizziness hit him. “Although, I’m thinking the fever might be playing a part here.”

You laughed and walked back over, shaking your head lovingly as you tucked him back in. “Go to sleep, casanova. We’ll have plenty of time to talk when you’re better.”

As he drifted back off to sleep, his breathing once again slowing to a steady rhythm, you smiled again. “Don’t worry, Dean. We’ve got all the time in the world.”


End file.
